


Thorin Oakenshield, Chocolate Thief

by Saraste



Series: FICMAS 2020 [9]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Chocolate, Established Relationship, Ficmas, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Bilbo finds his secret holiday chocolate stash empty and there can be only one culprit: Thorin.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: FICMAS 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034025
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Thorin Oakenshield, Chocolate Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Did you eat all of my holiday chocolate?” from [here](https://ravenclawnerd.tumblr.com/post/168450105661/winterchristmas-writing-prompts).

Bilbo closed the top cupboard door with an audible snap, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. He grumbled wordless displeasure to himself. A particular shelf in the cupboard had been completely empty, even when it absolutely shouldn't have been, being his emergency stash, which apparently thieving husbands should have known better than to touch… and yet, here they were.

Scowling, he went in search of the culprit, that thief of thieves, that betrayer of trust and purloiner of chocolates that were not his. He found him reading a book in one of the two chairs beside their sitting room fireplace, looking absolutely and utterly innocent, sitting there, eyes intent on his book, like absolutely nothing at all was or could be amiss.

'Thorin,' he said firmly, hands crossed over his chest, fingers rapping on the elbow of the other.

Thorin's shoulders did not tense and his face did not reflect quilt nor contrition. He set his book down, slow and easy. 'Is something the matter?'

Yes, this man had aided his wild sister-sons with their pranks and had had a wild youth himself. And Bilbo knew him too well to know that this was not his culprit, also, there had been no-one else in the house in a week and Bilbo didn't eat in his sleep. That he knew of, at least, and surely, he would have noticed?

But this was no moment to get side-tracked, so all thoughts about possible if not probable sleep-eating were put aside in favour of cornering the real culprit, his darling husband. 'My emergency holiday chocolate stash,' he intoned slowly, through slightly gritted teeth.

'What about it?' Perfect worried tone, not too little, not too much, just right, spousal concern, everything absolutely and completely normal, no chocolate thieves here.

'Have you by any chance demolished it?'

'No.'

He was living with a monster, truly and horribly he was. He advanced on Thorin, possibly wearing a fearsome expression on his face judging by the way Thorin was starting to cringe away. 'Now, Bilbo---'

'Don't you dare "now Bilbo" me, you thief!' Bilbo glowered down at his husband from his unaccustomed vantagepoint, looming over him as Thorin tried to make himself look small in his chair without much success being a big man.

‘I’m sorry!’

‘You ate my special treats! All of them!’

‘I’ve already bought you new ones! And extra! They’ll be here tomorrow!’

That managed to mollify Bilbo, even if only the tiniest bit, as he didn’t still didn’t have chocolate in the now, his special holiday chocolates, especially those lovely chocolates with the nice fudge filling. He made Thorin squirm with a piercing glare, which his husband well deserved for his actions. ‘Well,’ he said, not quick to abandon his justified anger.

Thorin, damn him, reached out for him, and he let him, weak for such displays of tenderness as he was, and his initial stark ire ebbing now that his husband was acting so very calm and reasonable. ‘Please, what can I do now to repay you today?’

He considered. He looked at Thorin, at the softness of him in that big knitter jumper and his broad shoulders and big arms and that bearded face looking at him, finally looking contrite.

Bilbo huffed.

‘Well, I might consider, and note _might_ , forgiving you _if_ you make me forget why I wanted the chocolate in the first place, but only while we’re both sitting in this chair and only using your hands.’

And he plopped himself down onto Thorin’s lap, book and all, fitting there like he belonged, which he did, of course, even when he was vexed with his husband. Those big hands settled on him, like he knew where they belonged, which they did, holding him tight and close and sure.

Bilbo had already lost, but didn’t care, as he was getting just what he wanted when there was no chocolate to be had: Thorin’s hands all over him, which was in no conceivable way losing, not at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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